


Beware, Therefore, The Gemini.

by aenor_llelo



Series: For A Diamond Is A Marveled Thing [4]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Dissociation, Gem Neurotypical Is Not Human Neurotypical, Gemsong, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Have Just Discovered This Is A Tag And By God I'm Gonna Use It, Nonbinary Steven Universe, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steven Universe Has PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, steven is a fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23526127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aenor_llelo/pseuds/aenor_llelo
Summary: When Steven moves back with with Greg and the Gems, Greg learns two things.First- Technically, he has two sons.Second- He almost lost them both at 14.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe, Crystal Gems & Steven Universe, Greg Universe & Pink Steven Universe, Greg Universe & Steven Universe
Series: For A Diamond Is A Marveled Thing [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604959
Comments: 54
Kudos: 803





	1. I'm Lost.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a series. Please read the series for full context and understanding.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven had a bad night.

* * *

Greg learns a lot of things about his son when he moves back in to the Temple.

_Steven disappears sometimes._

Not a running away type of disappearing. He's just... there one day, and gone the next. He'll text back if someone asks after him, but he'll still be gone. Maybe a day, maybe a week, and when he comes back he won't offer where he went unless someone asks first. And _where_ he went could be literally anywhere- Spacetries, Norway, Homeworld- _literally_ anywhere within the reach of his vast empire. His existence is an ocean tide- always destined to leave, always destined to return, always somehow _present_ no matter how far away.

(Maybe that's why he didn't realize what was wrong, at first.)

_Steven is an early riser._

Greg isn't that late of a sleeper by any means. But no matter what time he wakes up, Steven is always there first with the beginnings of a breakfast ready, and sometimes he lets Greg help make it.

(He didn't leave his temple room until 1 o' clock that day.)

_Steven is very tidy._

He cleans up the slightest bit of dirt the exact moment it manifests. He folds laundry into perfect squares. His clothes are immaculate. He washes dishes _while_ he cooks, that's how on top of it he is.

(He wasn't wearing his vest, or his little tie. His shirt was buttoned wrong, and his rosy curls were half unraveled sporadic around his head.)

_Steven is very quiet._

When he walks, his steps are almost perfectly silent, even though he's Bismuth sized. When he stirs pots, or the drinks in his mugs, there isn't a scrape or clink to be heard.

(His footsteps are so silent that day it's like his feet weren't touching the ground at all. Like he was walking on air.)

_Steven doesn't talk sometimes._

He'll smile and wave and gesture and chirp and he'll go about his business without a single actual word. Once he didn't talk for an entire day, and when he finally said "Good night, dad," he almost gave said dad a heart attack. Greg isn't sure if this is new, or if his son was like this all along.

(He was talking to himself the moment he walked out of his door.)

_Steven always says hello._

Even if he's busy. If he sees you, he'll smile, he'll say _good mornin_ ', and if he's too tied up in a conversation, or just in one of those silent moods, he'll at least give a brief friendly squint before going on with his day.

...He hasn't so much as looked in Greg's direction. He moves with all the intent and awareness of a robot while he mechanically pours a cup of fruit juice, leaning against the counter as he thoughtlessly drinks it with agonizingly measured slowness.

The white claws of his fingers give shuddering, stuttering clicks against the tile.

The white claws of his fingers give shuddering, stuttering clicks against the mug.

" _Command run diagnostic matrix integration program facet pd-1 pavillion-1b_ _inconclusive_ ," his song dwales, flat and wavering, the empty cup in his hands starting to shake, " _command_ _run diagnostic matrix integration program-_ "

Greg takes the mug from his shaking hands and Steven gives a full-body _seize_ at the sudden contact, diamond eyes ( _and wasn't that_ _another thing to get used to_ ) snapping into sudden, tunneled focus.

"Oh," staggers his son, more song than voice. "Hello, father."

"Steven," Greg says slowly, taking his son's hands, "I think you need to sit down."

Steven is taller, broader, bigger- _stronger_ than his old, fragile, human dad. But he lets himself be led without any resistance to the couch. His already pale pink skin has a concerningly human pallor to it, and when Greg holds a hand to Steven's face, there's a feverish tinge to it.

For a Gem, the body and mind are one and the same. If Steven's starting to fever, either his brain is in a _really_ bad place, or he's actually driven himself to sickness.

And Steven _never_ gets sick.

"Come on son," he nudges. "Talk to me."

**"Sten is gone."**

It's his son's voice- it is _his_ voice, isn't it, who else's could it be- but it's... _wrong._ Off. A flat, low pitch, like a single note sustained.

**"Sten is gone,"** and even his face is almost frozen in time, a wide eyed shellshock at odds with the growing confusion and panic laced in his song. **"I can't find him."**

"Sten? Who are you talking about? Steven, are you-"

**"Not Steven. Not without Sten."** He's hardly breathed this whole time, but he is now, in stuttering gasps that don't take a single bit of air. **"Sten? Mine, my Sten, my my my my my my my _my_ -"**

"Steven, you're not making any sense, please slow down-"

**"Where is my brother?"**

And somehow, for all the timbre of this song that screams in Gregs ears, this voice is suddenly very small.

So, so small.

**"Please,"** begs the uncanny song, the way that only a child can- the way that Steven did when he was young and so, so small, and Greg was nothing more or less than the entire world. **"Please, he'll die without me. I need him, please, I- I- I- I- I- I-"**

And Greg takes him into his arms.

He's too small to reach out all the way. He's too small now to take this child (not a child anymore, but still _his_ child, always his) into his arms and shield him with his embrace like his presence alone could hold off nothing more or less than the entire world.

But he can reach nonetheless. 

He can reach out his hands, and lay his son's head on his shoulder.

"It's alright, son. It's alright."

**"I'm not Steven,"** the voice mumbles into his shoulder.

"You're still my son." He runs a hand through the curl of his son's hair. This, at least, hasn't changed. "But if you're not Steven, I guess we haven't met. Mind introducing yourself to dear old Dad?"

**"I-"** the song of the voice catches on static and the squeal of untuned orchestral strings. **"Vendan. I am..."** he clutches at his clothes, the opening made around his gem. **"...half."**

There's a thought turning in Greg's mind, but- no. It couldn't. It couldn't be right. "And Sten?"

**"Half. Mine."** His song catches again, halting. **"From you."**

Half. Halves. He's talking like he's a-

"Fusion," he breathes, and he barely even believes it, but what else could it be? "You're a _fusion_."

**"Please, I need-"** his song breaks like a choked sob. **"I need him."**

"How did you lose him? Did you-" 

_Please. Please, he'll die without me-_

"Did you unfuse?"

**"I- I- I-"** His song glitches on a loop. **"I don't know."**

"Well, let's figure it out. What does Sten look like?"

**"...Human."**

"And what would you look like, unfused?"

**"...Pink. Bright."**

"Well..." Greg holds up his phone, with the camera on. "You still _look_ like Steven."

And Steven- no, _Vendan_ , sees Steven's face staring back at him through the camera, running a hand over his own face, lingering on his eyes (diamond though they were, they are brown and dark and _human_ \- Sten's, perhaps?) and all the scattered imperfect freckles dusted over his own body.

"See? You didn't lose him. He's still there."

**"Oh."** There's barely a speck of emotion on his face, but he looks so _lost_. **"Then why is it so quiet?"**

"Maybe... he thought he lost _you._ And he backed off into your heads, trying to find you. And I bet he's freaking out like you are. So why don't you tell him you're still here?"

**"Yes."** Some tension in Vendan's face lifts, and he looks down at the old fabric of the worn couch. **"Thank you."**

"Anytime, son." He shuffles awkwardly in his seat. "You want me to back off for this?"

**"Please don't leave."** _Please don't leave me._

"Okay. Whatever you need, Vendan. I'm here." Greg pulls his son's head back onto his shoulders. "I'm here."

His son nods, just barely, and the tense shake of his body fades, a little at a time.

After a little while, he starts to really breathe again.

A clawed hand raises up and flexes into Greg's sweater.

" _Greg?_ " whispers a song almost Steven, almost Vendan, something soft and wavering. " _What are you..._ "

"Don't _Greg_ me, young man. I'm your damn dad, Sten, no matter how out of it you are."

And his son _laughs_. A stuttering, hiccuping laugh that jumps out of the cage of his mouth and never stops, flowing into a low, bubbling sound so timeless that Greg no longer hears Rose every time it happens.

" _Stars above_ , Dad," Steven laughs, breathless and shocked and finally, entirely himself, "have some tact."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Like A Word, A Sound, A Song_ is a non-linear story. The chapter _The Drinking Song_ , which alludes to Greg knowing about Sten and Vendan, takes place post SU:F and _Country Warps_.


	2. But I Want You To Know, You Could Know Me,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven has a better day.

* * *

The Crystal Gems wait at the Temple, summoned by a single code.

93-B.

An formal non-emergency summons from Asteria Diamond. A debriefing, if you will.

Though for what purpose, the Gems didn't know. Connie and Greg seemed to, though, even if they didn't say a thing, simply waiting in sympathetic silence.

Steven's temple door opens like the petals of a rose. He walks out with bottles of Diamond ichor and startles, just a bit, at the slight crowd in the house.

"Uh..." Bismuth hesitates, "Steven? What you got there?"

"Nothing much, it's just prep work." He walks to the kitchen counter with a choreographed smoothness he clearly does not feel, and starts to mix a blend.

Bismuth doesn't know all that much about the new Diamond blend trend. She only knew the bare basics of it through osmosis, sitting through Peridot's impassioned rants about how _this_ time she'd totally found the optimal yellow-pink blend for maximum productivity, eventual stress dissipation be damned.

Pink, yellow, blue, and white, in descending proportions. He pours a bit into a clouding pipe, it's mouth shaped like the ironic echo of a certain dragon that tore open the front of this very house almost a year ago now.

"Seriously, Steven," she presses, "what's goin' on?"

"Yeah!" Peridot barks. "And why did you make a new recipe without telling me!"

"It'll make sense in a minute," he insists, if a little nervously. "Do you have the thing I asked for?"

It had been a strange request. A tool to painlessly separate fusions, in the event of a toxic, unsafe, or injured fusion that either couldn't or wouldn't separate safely on their own. It was an idea she and Peridot had already toyed with before Steven brought it up, and it worked well enough. It's shape was rudimentary for it's purpose- pretty much a jerry-rigged walking stick. This prototype had been made for function over form, a mere proof of concept.

He took the not-quite-a-cane into his hands.

"Uh, Garnet?" he asks. "You might want to step back."

He holds the cane upright, and before Bismuth can wonder _what in the galaxies he's thinking_ , he activates it and knocks it against the ground.

There's flash of light behind everyone's eyes that barely even lasts a second.

There are two Stevens holding the cane.

One is like an apparition. An echo of the Steven they know now. He is pink, the way Steven is in his usual form, but the shades of _this_ form are just slightly off- his skin just slightly paler, his hair just slightly darker. His body gives a cold, harsh glow, and his bright Diamond eyes carry such a vivid pink that it skirted red. His form has a constant, ringing song, and his face is blank, attentive.

The other one looks... _human_. An echo of a Steven of the past- the way he might have grown up to be if he was only ever human. But there is a grey, bloodless tone to him. His fingers bear Gem claws, his teeth are Gem's teeth, and when she looks into his dark eyes, she sees diamonds in them. There is a weary set to his body, and he leans on the cane like it's the only thing that keeps him standing.

(The diamond opening in the belly of his clothes doesn't have a Gem.)

The pink Steven hovers attentively until the "human" one raises the pipe to his mouth and takes in the cloud of its blend. The half dead pallor doesn't leave his body, but he leans a little less dependently on the cane, his eyes sharp, nervous, almost calculating as he takes in the silent shock of the Gems.

"I don't-" Garnet wills her visor away, her three eyes unified in an utterly flabbergasted expression. "What is- I didn't- I've never _Seen_ this before... you... you're..."

"...you're Pink Diamond's gem," Pearl's song wavers. "You're... P-"

**"Pink Diamond does not exist."** Pearl freezes. The pink Steven's eyes bore past her. **"Rose Quartz does not exist."**

His stare is blank, unyielding, unmoved. But his song, low and Diamond as it may be, is not unkind.

**"She does not exist,"** he stresses.

"Is everyone just gonna slide past the fact," Amethyst blurts, "that Steven's gem is OUT OF HIS BODY?"

At the sudden pitch of Amethyst's song, the "human" Steven flinches harshly, clutching his head with a muffled growl of pain.

"Oh stars," Amethyst backpedals, "are you okay? I didn't want to hurt you, Steven!"

" _Not Steven,_ " whispers a tenuous song in response. " _Sorry._ "

"What happened?" Lapis asked. "Why is your gem out of your body? Why do you look like that? Are you sick?" Her face twists with panic. "Are you dying?" Her skin flushes with anger, turning towards the pink Steven. "You shouldn't be here! Go back! Help Steven, you-"

There's a nervous, cornered slant to the pink Steven's face, eyes darting back and forth, and Bismuth pulls her back. "Hey! Not helping! Let 'em talk." 

" _Bismuth. T_ _hank you._ " The "human" Steven takes in another small cloud of his blend, steadying himself. " _I- we... are not Steven. Just his halves. Sten,_ " he gestures to himself, " _and Vendan._ " He takes his other's hand.

"You're... a fusion," Garnet hesitantly states, like a child waiting to be corrected. "Steven is a fusion."

Sten hums at the hypothesis. " _N_ _ot quite. In theory, yes, but in practice..._ "

**"To be apart is to be little more than shattered,"** Vendan morbidly ends. **"Dying. Desperate. In pieces."**

Well _that_ killed the mood.

Greg nervously breaks the silence. "If that's what it's like for you... is it _safe_ for you to be like this right now?"

" _Oh stars, no._ " Sten dwales tiredly. " _The only reason I'm not dying on the floor right now is this thing._ " He gestures vaguely with the clouding pipe.

Vendan only hums vaguely in agreement.

" _Actually, I think this is the longest we've ever unfused. I think? Last time wasn't... wasn't..._ " he starts to drift off where he stands, a hazy look in his eyes.

"Sten?" Connie prods. "You're drifting."

" _Oh! Connie. You're here._ " He stares for just a bit too long. " _You have really pretty eyes..._ "

Vendan breaks his brief silence. **"That's enough. Come here before you embarrass us both."**

He pulls Sten back towards him with a soft hug. Sten leans into the hold, and they slowly start to spin.

On a gentle axis and a rising pulse of light, Steven staggers back into existence.

" _Oy vey_ ," Steven mutters unsteadily, hand on his head, "That wasn't any less weird than the _last time_ I had to do that."

Before anyone can piece what he means by _last time_ , he takes a step, his body pitched to fall. Lion is already there at his side, bolstering him back up. "Good boy," he praises tiredly. "Lemme just... lemme just sit down a minute." He makes his way to the couch, sinking down until his head half rests on Connie's shoulder. Coming back to himself, he goes, "All right. Have your 20 questions."

"My question!" Peridot cuts. "If being unfused is like being shattered, why weren't you freaking out harder?"

"The blend did it's job. Kept Sten from dying, but it also kept him calm. The two of us kind of... piggyback off eachother's emotions? If Sten is calm then Vendan is calm. If it happened, like, on the field or something, we really would be a shattered Gem."

"Cool, cool. My turn." Amethyst squints her eyes. "How long have you known you were a fusion?"

The other Gems look at her.

"What? You know how it is with fusions, guys! You forget you were anything else! Steven was _born_ fused, he couldn't have known, right?" She pauses. Steven's got a... strange look on his face. "Steven?"

" _Fourteen,_ " his song rings distantly. " _I was fourteen._ "

Fourteen.

_Fourteen._

"On Homeworld. White's head. You were all bleached, and she..." He clutches at his gem. "...she..."

His eyes are distant as his hand reaches gracefully upward, claws flared.

"I never realized," he said without a single emotion on his face, "how big my gem was until she tore it out of me."

His hand drops, shaking.

Pearl's hand strangles her mouth.

"It was _you_ ," Bismuth realizes. "The ship, the inside was in _pieces_. That was _you,_ unfused."

"Like I said," his song rang flat, "a shattered Gem. Nothing else existed but my missing pieces."

For a little while, no one says a thing.

"I was there," Connie admits. "I had to carry Sten. He couldn't walk on his own, he was too hurt. She just dropped him out of her hand when she had what she wanted. And... I'm the one who named them. Later. After it was all over."

Once again, Greg reaches out his hand and lays his son's head on his shoulder. Once again, Steven lets him.

Lapis breaks the silence.

"I'm gonna do it," she says grimly. "I'm gonna go feral. I'm just gonna manifest into Homeworld and assassinate a Diamond for real."

" _Don't_ ," Steven calls out from his muffled perch on his dad's shoulder. " _The paperwork would kill me._ "

"You're right." She crosses her arms in frustration. "I'm still gonna be mad, though."

"I always wondered why you were so good at fusion," Garnet confessed. "I'm glad. It's nice to have another one on the team."

"No wonder you're so great!" Peridot yelled. "You're two entire Stevens! Put together to make a third, better Steven! That's twice the greatness! Thrice the greatness! Greatness 0.5!"

"Y'all are taking this better than I expected," Steven notes warily.

"Well, I'm sure we'll all feel horrified about the implications later," Pearl soothes unsoothingly.

"We just learned that there's more of you to love than we thought," Bismuth drawls easily. "How can we be upset about that?"

And Steven laughs. A hiccupping, bubbling laugh made of confusion and relief and surprise and tears.

He laughs like the song of tearful, cheerful, twinning smiles.

He laughs like the dance of baby binary starlight rocking gently on its own axis.

He laughs like a duet, played by a single perfect pair of hands.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring- The Return Of Alien Weed Deeplore

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of like a direct sequel to _Country Warps, Take Me Home_
> 
> This series now has a dedicated written timeline for the curious in the series companion guide, which is the last "fic" listed in the series page.


End file.
